Dear Reader: In so many ways, it’s been a very strange and upsetting two-plus years, much of it a long downward slide into chronic pain and illness. But it’s also been two-plus years of discovery; I am having a love affair with orchids.
The huge blow dealt me by pain and illness is too much for a single blog post. To sum up: Imagine that trapped inside you is a twin who amplifies all your worst fears and episodes of suffering, and she is trying to molt out of your skin; she won’t stop crying out for help, and because you don’t know how to help her, you are both in constant pain. Autoimmune illness is truly that weird and disturbing.
Orchids have been a lovely, complex, ever-surprising comfort. Even when I couldn’t make a bed or tackle a flight of stairs, I could water my orchids.
I also discovered orchid TV. I watched TV of all kinds over the last few years–who didn’t? It was the era of sheltering in place and wondering whether the country would survive an insurrectionist executive.
I was always either trying to take in the news without puking or avoiding the news and bingeing Shark Week and Star Trek (the original series). But I also discovered YouTube’s orchid vloggers: Miss Orchid Girl and Nature Nel, that mostly means you!
I’d gotten a couple of mini phalaenopses for myself from Wegman’s just before Mother’s Day 2021. I just did what the flower lady said; soaked them in their plastic pots once a week. Here’s a sexy image or three.
This was about a month after I’d gotten my second Covid shot and about the time my autoimmune pain started to bother me.
What the flower lady didn’t tell me: it’s a bad idea to soak all of your orchids in shared water; it’s worse to “baste” them with that shared water; and worst of all is to let that water get into the “crowns” of the orchids, the top growth point from which new leaves emerge.
Yeah, although I somehow didn’t kill anything for nearly a year, I eventually rotted three out of four orchids at the crowns. Of those, two could not be saved; one survived to put out new roots and leaves, and today, about two years later, the survivor is finally beginning to flower again.
What the flower lady did not tell me, Miss Orchid Girl did. Miss Orchid Girl also told me about cattleyas, oncidium and oncidopsis and miltoniopsis; she told me that orchids could be fragrant. She showed me how to repot the grocery store orchids so that their roots wouldn’t rot in old medium. She showed me the translucent pots through which you can watch your orchids’ roots grow. She made sure I would be brave enough to stop watching her and start watching my orchids, because despite the best of expert advice, I could not anticipate my orchids’ needs until I learned their individual habits.
These simple beginnings gave me so much joy, and joy kept me going when I came up against my new disabilities. Things are better now, more manageable.
Although that uncertain inner twin might honestly do anything at any time, I’ve grown closer to her, more sensitive to her needs, more accommodating of and responsive to her whims.
And whether I’m feeling at my best or my worst, I can hover over my orchids, looking for the next budding root and blossom.
Next time, I really have to talk about Nature Nel. He lives in South Florida, but he seems like a neighbor—with a welcoming garden! And I’ll share images of orchids that I couldn’t find at the grocery store.
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